Into The Gray Beyond
by catsplosion
Summary: A series of oneshots about Shepard and everyone's favorite merc through the course of ME2; unpacking Rules and Regs.
1. Chapter 1

"Commander Shepard? Can I have your autograph?"

She cringed. "Piss off, kid," she snapped. "I'm not your damned hero." She stormed past him without so much as a glance.

"The fuck was that all about?"

Gritting her teeth, she glared at the merc. "You got a problem, Massani?"

"I think you've got a problem. And if you're tearing kids new assholes, I'm kinda worried about what's in store for the likes of us."

She stopped short and turned to him. "Garrus, meet us back at the ship," she ordered, her eyes on Zaeed's scarred face.

She could hear the concern in Garrus' voice. "Shepard..."

"I wasn't asking." She saw him pass through her peripheral vision. "Maybe you should be worried, you son of a bitch," she growled. "When I close my eyes, I see those workers burning to death."

Zaeed crossed his arms over his chest. "Don't blame me for what happened on Zorya. You had a choice."

"Then why don't you help me out a little? Teach me how to stop giving a fuck, since you're so damned good at it."

"You think because I'm not pacing around the ship at night, that I don't care?"

Her cheeks reddened.

"People die, Shepard. Sure, maybe we could've saved some. But then Vido Santiago would still be carving a goddamn trail of bodies across the galaxy. Thanks to us, that's not going to happen."

"And it's that easy?" she muttered.

"Did someone tell you it was gonna be easy, sweetheart?" he said condescendingly.

She stared at him, unable to read those mismatched eyes.

"Guilt's about as useful as jacking off. You feel bad about those workers? They're dead, they don't care how you fucking feel." He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "But that kid back there? He needed a hero, and you fucked that up for him because you don't feel like a goddamn hero? Sounds like bullshit to me."

Shepard rubbed her temple. "Yeah. Okay." She sighed, feeling a little sick, a little dizzy.

"That Alliance-issued moral compass of yours doesn't work out here," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You'll figure it out."

Smiling crookedly, she nodded. "Thanks."

"Come on, Garrus is gonna send out a goddamn search party if we don't get back."

She opened her mouth, then closed it, swallowing hard.

He laughed. "Alright, Shepard. Let's go find the goddamn kid."


	2. Therapy

Shepard just stood there, cheeks burning, as Kaidan walked away.

Garrus cleared his throat. "So..."

"Let's just go," she muttered.

Back on the ship, she headed to the mess hall. "Rupert," she greeted the cook tersely, "you got anything to drink back there?"

He looked embarrassed. "Shit, Commander. I might have a bottle or two of beer, but nothing worth -"

"I got ya, Shepard," came a gravelly voice from behind her. "No need to start drinking that goddamn toilet water." He motioned for her to follow him.

After Horizon, Zaeed was the last person she wanted to see. Well, second-to-last. But damn if she didn't want that drink. Sighing, she went after him.

"Did that pretty boy get into your head?" he asked as he handed her a dented metal cup half-full of whiskey. "Make you second-guess yourself?"

"Hell no. I know what I'm doing." She took a drink. "Don't care to be called a traitor, though. By anyone." Especially, she thought, by someone who claimed to love her.

"Can't blame him. He is what he is."

She gave him a sidelong glance where he stood, leaning against the wall, drinking straight from the bottle. "And what is he?"

"Still using that Alliance-issued moral compass, that's what."

She laughed bitterly. "Yeah, guess he hasn't gotten the speech."

"Too bad I'm not the kid's therapist," he chuckled.

"Oh, but you're mine?"

"Sweetheart, so long as Cerberus keeps the credits coming, I'll be whatever you want."

She froze, the cup at her lips. He was staring at her, unreadable as ever, and she felt the heat creep out of her collar and up her neck. Getting to her feet, she looked around for a distraction. Her eyes settled on the collection of knives jutting out of the wall.

"I didn't know you were into decorating," she said wryly, prying them free and tucking each one into her belt. "Where do you throw from? Here?" She approached where he stood.

He nodded.

Glancing back at the target wall, she passed him and went all the way back to the trash compactor. Her first throw hit the wall and clattered to the floor.

"You're gonna have to throw pretty goddamn -"

Her second stuck, shutting him up mid-sentence. It was way off target, though. "You were saying?"

"Don't mind me," he laughed. "I'll just watch."

She fumbled getting the next blade, and had to jerk her foot back to avoid losing a toe. Was he doing that on purpose?

He looked like he was fighting back a grin. "Never took you for a lightweight, Shepard."

She glared at him, then focused on her next throw. Holding the knife by the blade, she kissed the pommel for luck and threw.

It hit squarely between the two fives emblazoned on the wall.

She looked at him, one brow raised.

"Not fucking bad, Shepard."

Grinning, she headed for the door. "Thanks for the therapy, Zaeed."

"Does that mean you're feeling better?"

Her smile broadened. "I am."


	3. Breakfast

Shepard almost always woke up with a ravenous hunger. She didn't know if it has something to do with her cybernetics, or if it was a side effect of being dead for two years, but she could _eat _these days.

Showering quickly and tying back her still-damp hair, she booked it to the mess hall.

Gardner already had bacon and eggs cooking, and when he saw her he pointed to a cup of coffee on the counter.

She took the cup and smiled. "You're a good man, Rupert."

"Hell, Commander. Just doing my job." He dished up her food and she ate in silence, forcing herself to take her time.

"Morning, Shepard."

Shepard looked up and promptly dropped her fork onto her plate with a resounding clatter.

Zaeed stood before her, hair wet, naked but for the towel wrapped around his hips.

God, those hips. You could cut yourself on his hipbones, and what a way to go.

His skin was a study in contrast; clean inked lines, rough scars. Her eyes were drawn to a thick, raised mark about three inches wide high on the left side of his ribcage. She suspected a knife wound that never received proper care, and wondered what it would feel like to trace it with her fingertips… or her tongue.

She forced her eyes back up to his face, and realized that she had been staring - and he knew it. Blushing furiously, she focused on her breakfast. When she hazarded another glance, he was leaning against the counter, chugging a cup of coffee.

He was watching her, waiting. He gave her a ghost of a smile, one brow cocked.

Green. She'd never noticed before, but his good eye was green. She returned his half-smile, then dropped her gaze again. She was peripherally aware of him rounding the table.

"That's more like it," he whispered as he passed behind her.

Damn you, Massani, she thought.


	4. Best Laid Plans

"Shepard, it's getting late," Jacob said, stifling a yawn. "Did you want to move on this tonight?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. Get some sleep, Taylor."

"You should do the same."

"Yeah," she said noncommittally. "I should."

He knew she didn't sleep much; everyone knew. Shepard didn't discuss it, and she let the crew make their own assumptions. The truth, though, was not that she couldn't sleep, but that she didn't want to.

"EDI? Is Massani still awake?"

There was a slight pause. "Yes, Shepard. He is disassembling a non-functioning weapon for cleaning."

She snorted. Him and that damned rifle. "Could you send him up here?" If anyone could help her plan this attack, it would be him, giving her a legitimate excuse to stay here instead of going to bed.

"You rang?" Zaeed said sardonically as he entered the briefing room.

She was examining the 3d blueprints; she didn't look up. "I had a hunch you'd still be up, and I could use your help." When she finally took her eyes off the imaging, she lost her train of thought.

He wore a tight white t-shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders, the fabric worn thin enough that she could see the faintest hint of his tattoos. Her heart pounded so hard she was sure he could hear it. She dragged her eyes back to his face. It was easy to see just a patchwork of lines and scars and skin grafts, to miss the strong jaw and fine cheekbones and cleft chin. But she noticed.

Zaeed was staring, studying her, and for once his expression wasn't so hard to read. He raised his eyebrow.

Her breath caught in her throat and it felt like time stopped. A thousand thoughts tried to crowd her mind at once, but the blood roaring through her veins drowned them all out. Her eyes never leaving his face, she wet her lips with the slightest flick of her tongue.

He came at her slowly, like a jungle cat, all hunger and purpose, and she kicked her boots off. She was shoving her pants down when he reached her, grabbed her head in both hands, and plunged his tongue into her mouth. She made a small, muffled sound of surprise, and she felt his lips curl into a grin against hers. He kissed her like he was drowning and she was air, and every nerve ending in her body sang.

Running her hands down his chest, she slid under his shirt, savoring the heat of his skin. Without realizing she was searching for it, her fingertips found that scar, high on his ribcage. She wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body against his.

Zaeed broke the kiss, and it pleased her to hear that his breath was as ragged as hers. Still cupping her head in one hand, he drew his thumb along her jaw, across her lower lip, along her chin and down the column of her throat. His gaze followed his hand down her body, caressing her breast with fervor, sliding down her belly and along her bare hip. He grabbed her ass with both hands and lifted her up onto the table, Shepard gripping his shoulders.

Their eyes met and the heat of his gaze made her dizzy. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled his mouth to hers. He tasted like whiskey and smelled like gun oil. As he explored her neck and shoulders with his teeth and tongue, he moved one hand to the small of her back, under her shirt, and slid his other hand up her thigh.

Shepard tensed. She wanted him - needed him, even - but 'out of practice' didn't even cover it. His hand stilled and she grabbed it, slid it just a little higher. She sure as hell didn't want him to stop. He chuckled in her ear as he grazed her wet curls.

A study in contrast, she'd thought before: his touch was as gentle as his kisses were rough as he stroked her, parting her slick folds. When he eased a finger into her heat, she gasped, and he hummed smugly against her collarbone. She spread her legs farther to grant him better access, and he rewarded her with a second finger in her cunt, still slow and gentle. She curled her fingers into his short hair and dragged his mouth back to hers. He seemed happy to oblige, working his tongue in such a way that she was eager to find out what else he could do with it.

But not tonight. Still holding onto him by the hair, she trailed her fingertips down his body and grabbed the waistband of his pants, deftly undoing his fly with one hand. He wore nothing underneath them, and they both groaned a little when she took hold of his cock. Shepard hoped she was ready for this, because she couldn't stand to wait any longer.

He withdrew his fingers, not missing the sigh that escaped her lips. His hand was slick, and watching him spread that slickness over his thick cock was enough to drive her wild. The table was at the wrong height and he slid her off the edge, gripping her ass as he worked his way into her dripping cunt inch by delicious inch.

Her eyes were shut tight as she slowly stretched to take him. His forehead bumped hers and she opened her eyes. Zaeed was watching her closely, brow furrowed, as if -

Laughing, she tipped her head up to nip at his lower lip. His expression relaxed a little and he thrust, slowly, carefully, watching her reaction, testing the waters. She tightened her legs around him and wrapped her arms around his neck, and he began fucking her harder than she was ready for yet not hard enough. His mouth found hers and the kiss was wet, sloppy, punctuated by their mingled grunts and gasps and when she came she muffled the cry against his shoulder.

His breath came hard and fast in her ear, low growls of pleasure that threatened to bring her back to the edge. Suddenly he - he practically roared, clamping his mouth shut as if he could take the sound back, and he pinned her against the edge of the table, his cock pulsing inside her.

His arms were shaking, but he didn't let go, and neither did she. He pressed his face against her neck and she couldn't help but grin. With a different kind of grunt, he lifted her up onto the table.

She watched him do up his pants, then to her surprise he bent down and picked up hers. He handed them to her and as she put them on, he rounded up her boots and set them neatly in front of her. When she smiled at him, he smiled back. Then he pulled a flask out of his pocket and offered it to her.

"So, what are we looking at here?" He gestured to the blueprints.

"This is a mining facility that Eclipse has taken over. I want to take it back. They've disabled the security cameras, so the layout is all we've got."

He grinned and took another drink of whiskey. "Good thing you've got me then, yeah?"


	5. The Dreams in which I'm Dying

Shepard gasped for air, trying to claw her way out of the sweat-soaked sheets. She overestimated her success on that account; trying to get off the bed sent her pitching face-first, one ankle still snared. She hit the floor with a grunt and a swear, not enough wind in her to get knocked out. She staggered to the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face.

Leaning against the counter, she stared at the face in the mirror. It looked like her, right down to the scar that split her left eyebrow. The new scars were different, tiny fissures in her skin revealing the warm glow of the cybernetics beneath.

"Who are you?" she whispered. It had her face, her voice, even her memories... but it couldn't be her, not really.

"I died," she snarled at the woman in the mirror. "I died, so who are you? Who the fuck are you?"

Her fist collided with the mirror, an explosion of pain and glass that brought further curses to her lips. She stared at the blank wall for a moment and decided it was an improvement, then turned her attention to her hand. She winced as she flexed her lacerated knuckles, blood dripping onto the glass-littered countertop.

"Fuck," she muttered, grabbing a towel off the shelf and wrapping it around her hand. It was late, most of the crew would be asleep, she could just slip down to med bay and get some medi-gel and no one would say a word to her. They never did, when she wandered the ship at night.

And that was mostly how it went, until she went to the elevator to go back to her cabin.

Garrus was waiting for her.

"Trouble sleeping, Garrus?" She clasped her hands behind her back.

"You left a trail, Shepard. I'm guessing you didn't notice." He pointed out the small spatters of blood on the floor.

"Fuck," she muttered.

"Talk to me, Shepard. Please." He touched her arm. "Talk to me, and I'll help clean up the mess."

She pressed her lips between her teeth. "It's a bigger mess than you think," she sighed, and took him up to her cabin. He looked like he wanted to look around; she nodded her consent and sat on the couch, resting her elbows on her knees.

"Am I really me, Garrus?"

He came and sat beside her. "What?"

She shook her head. "I can remember it. I can remember dying." She looked at him with bloodshot eyes. "I don't know anymore."

"You think I'd be here if I didn't believe it was really you?"

"But Cerberus made me. Maybe they -"

He put a hand on her shoulder. "Don't do that, Shepard. You'll drive yourself crazy. Are you the exact same person you were two years ago? Of course not. None of us are. The shit we've been through - life changes you, y'know."

She nodded. "Yeah. I guess."

Your... tastes have certainly changed."

Her cheeks flushing, she glared at him, and he held up his hands defensively. "Oh come on, Shepard. I'm just giving you a hard time."

She shook her head. "How did you know?"

"To be honest, I didn't. Not until now. But I've had my suspicions. I -" he paused. "About a week ago, you two were having coffee. Now, I've seen you drunk, Shepard. Hell, I've even seen you dance. But I've never seen you really look at ease." He patted her leg. "Whatever it is, you need it."

Her blush deepened and she fought back a grin.

"But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't surprised."

She snorted. "Yeah. Me too."

He looked at her. "You gonna be okay?"

She gave him a small, tired smile. "Aren't I always?"


	6. Power Trip

Shepard was just about to throw the last knife when the door to Zaeed's quarters whooshed open and he walked in, turning to her as if he already knew she was there. "You get lost, sweetheart?" he asked in a teasing tone.

She held up the knife. "I need practice. That wall already has holes in it. Besides," she said, lifting her chin, "it's my ship."

Laughing, he shook his head. "You can take the girl out of the Alliance, I guess."

She shifted on the railing where she was perched, hooking her feet behind the lower bar for balance. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He approached her. "Means that was some bona fide Alliance bullshit." He moved between her legs, his hands framing her hips on the railing. "Manifest fucking destiny, is that it?" he growled.

She could smell the whiskey on his breath, the cigar smoke on his clothes. Meeting his eyes, she leaned in even closer. "Well, I'm an unstoppable force," she said, her voice breathier than she had intended.

Plucking the knife from her hand, he set it on a nearby crate. He held her gaze, but she recognized the sound when he unfastened his belt. As he slid it free of the loops her heart began to pound so loudly that she was sure he could hear it. Her hands trembled as he took them behind her back, pressing his body against hers, trapping her in his arms. He cinched the belt around her wrists, secure but not too tight, his eyes still on hers, his mouth barely inches from hers.

She parted her lips expectantly, but he took a step back. A crease formed between her brows and he laughed at her expression.

His eyes still on her face, he leaned over and picked up the knife. He raised one eyebrow, watching her. Waiting.

The sensible part of her screamed that the man was a trained killer who traded in blood and bullets.

The intuitive part of her knew that if she so much as shook her head, he would put down the knife.

The primal part of her was soaking her knickers.

Biting her lip, she gave him a wicked grin.

He closed the distance between them, slid his free hand up her thigh and grabbed the hem of her tank top.

The steel whispered as it sliced through the fabric, Zaeed focused wholly on the task at hand. She held her breath as he bisected the shirt, and when it fell open he pulled her bra away from her skin and sliced the cups apart. He peeled both back over her shoulders, down her arms to bunch up at her bound wrists.

In testament to their odd dynamic, though they'd had sex probably a dozen times by now, this was the first time he'd seen her so bare. Shepard rolled her shoulders back, lifting her breasts.

Resting his hands on her hips, Zaeed lowered his face to her belly, nipping her just below the navel. She shivered as he trailed his tongue down to the waistband of her pants and kissed his way up to her ribs. He hadn't shaved, and the mix of sensations from stubble and skin, tongue and teeth had her whimpering as he worked his way up her midsection.

He licked up the underside of her breast, and when he took her nipple in his mouth she gasped, arching her back. He moved his mouth to her other breast, and she wasn't sure how much more of this she could take. Being completely at his mercy had her turned on like never before, and she ached for his cock. It had become a battle of wills, one that she was determined to win.

When he sank his teeth into that spot he loved, just below her collarbone, she pressed her lips together to stifle a moan. The harder he sucked the more she writhed, desperate to feel him, to taste him, to curl her fingers into his hair...

Maybe he could read her mind, because he abruptly grabbed her head and crushed his mouth to hers. She wrapped her legs around him and he slid his hands under her ass, pulling her against him. She could feel his erection through both of their pants and she ground her hips against him.

He set her on her feet and spun her around, yanking her pants down. Her whole body trembled, her only thought how badly she wanted him.

She felt his fingers press into her hip and she let him bend her over. His cock slid easily into her sopping cunt and she cried out. He stilled, buried in her, and she rocked back on her heels to encourage him.

To her surprise, he grabbed her by her arms, just below the elbows, simultaneously pushing her shoulders down and pulling her ass back against him.

"Oh _god _yes!" she gasped. She had never been so loud, but it had never felt so good, and when he thrust harder she lifted her tailbone and she didn't care if she cried herself hoarse, as long as he didn't stop.

Her orgasm came on so quickly that her knees started to buckle. Zaeed grabbed her hip and held her as she bucked against him, and she actually saw stars. As she shuddered in the wake of her release, she realized that the hand not holding her by the hip was freeing her wrists.

She whirled to face him, the belt still dangling from one wrist, and kissed him fiercely before lowering to her knees. She wasted no time engulfing his cock in her mouth, his taste mingled with hers making her lashes flutter.

He stumbled back half a step and she moved with him, unwilling to break contact even for a second. She dug her fingers into the backs of his thighs and sucked him greedily, never letting his cock leave her mouth.

She heard his voice, but if he used actual words she didn't catch them. The way his fingers tightened in her hair told her what she needed to know.

She swallowed every drop that he pumped into her mouth, savoring the way his cock pulsed against her tongue.

His knees buckled and he dropped onto his cot, his hands still in her hair. She rested her head against his knee until she found the strength to stand, pulling her pants up as she did.

She flexed her wrists, noticing the welts that formed there. Zaeed pulled her down beside him and began massaging the irritated skin. She hummed softly and let her eyes drift shut. His hands moved up her arms and he kneaded her shoulders with calloused thumbs.

"You could do that all night," she sighed.

His movements faltered for only a second, but it was enough to bring her attention to what she'd said. She opened her eyes.

He gave her that half-smile that gave her butterflies. "I'm out of whiskey."

"Well," she said, slipping reluctantly from his touch and crossing the room, "I just so happen to have some." She retrieved the bottle from the crate where she had stashed it. "I'll trade you for a shirt."

He laughed. "You're alright, Shepard." He reached for the bottle but she held it up out of his grasp. "Shirt?"

Shaking his head, he peeled off his tee and tossed it at her. It smelled like sweat and smoke and sex and she decided to keep it until he asked for it back. "Did you bankrupt half my crew?" She sat down beside him.

"Nah, just Vakarian. Bastard doesn't know when to quit."

She snorted. "Obviously. If he did, he wouldn't have come with me a second time."

"Garrus? Pass up the chance to save the fucking universe? Not a chance."

"But not you," she said wryly. "You're just in it for the money. Nevermind the incredibly low odds that you'll live long enough to spend it."

"I like our odds better than you do, sweetheart. But on the off chance that I'm wrong..." He shrugged. "'Dying a hero's not the worst retirement plan."


	7. Chain of Command

"You gotta be fucking kidding me. You wanna use Shepard as bait to catch a goddamn Asari killing machine?"

Shepard glared at Zaeed. "This isn't up for discussion. I'll be fine."

"You got a lot of experience with this sort of thing, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Why, do you?"

"No, but I'm not the one throwing myself at the soul-sucking bitch, now am I? Send the she-devil. She's goddamn perfect, right? This Morinth ought to like her just fine, and if this goes bad, it's no big loss."

"Perfection does not interest Morinth. Do not worry. In spite of the dangers, I have every confidence in Shepard."

His face flickered between the two women. "Yeah, well, you don't know her like I do."

Shepard stepped to him, teeth and fists clenched. "If you think you can talk like that, you don't know me very well, either. It's my ship, my crew, and my call." Her eyes still boring into his, she tapped her communicator. "EDI, tell Thane to gear up. Massani's coming back on board."

Zaeed rolled his eyes and stepped around her, putting a hand on Samara's shoulder. "Don't let her get herself killed, okay? We need her."

Once Shepard got close to Samara's daughter, it was easy to forget about Zaeed and his bullshit. Samara hadn't been exaggerating with her warnings; Morinth was like a bad decision you couldn't wait to make, and it took everything in her to keep her wits about her. But the plan worked, and soon she was back on the ship, loaded with unspent adrenaline.

When she burst into Zaeed's cargo hold, she found him sprawled on his bed, holding a book.

"What the hell were you thinking?"

He slowly set down the book and sat up. "Funny, I could ask you the same thing."

"I need these people to trust me!" Her hands trembled, but thankfully her voice sounded steady. "The last thing I need is you giving anyone the impression that I'm not fit for duty!"

"In case you forgot, sweetheart, your duty is stopping the Collectors, not getting seduced and murdered."

"Well since neither of those things happened, I think you owe me an apology."

He laughed. "An apology?"

"You tried to make me look bad."

He closed the distance between them. "If you're worried about how you look, my goddamn mouth isn't your problem. You think I'm the only one who's seen you haunting these halls late at night?"

She turned away before she could punch him.

"Shepard -"

She felt his hand at her arm and she spun around, shoving him. He caught her wrist and dragged her with him as he stumbled backwards. She crashed into him and they both toppled to the floor in a cacophony of expletives.

"Fucking hell, Shepard," he said, rubbing the back of his head as he sat up.

She cradled her elbow. "You alright?"

He sat back against a crate. "Sometimes I wonder."

There was something in his tone, in the look he gave her, and suddenly it felt very warm on the cold floor of the cargo bay. She watched him pull a bottle of whiskey out from under the bed and take a drink. When he offered her the bottle, she took it, set it aside, and swung one leg over his to straddle him.

He cocked his brow and settled his hands on her thighs, giving her that lopsided grin.

She ran her palms up his chest and leaned in to kiss him, slipping one hand behind his head as their tongues slow-danced languidly. Shifting her hips, she felt him getting hard.

He snuck his hands under her shirt, pressing against the small of her back, encouraging the gentle rocking of her hips.

Kissing her way along his jaw, she traced his ear with her tongue before dragging her teeth down his neck. She felt his pulse quicken against her tongue as she ground against his cock.

He pushed her back and gave her a hungry look. Shepard stood slowly, enjoying the way he looked up at her. He reached over and unzipped her boots one by one, then gripped them by the heels so she could step out if them.

They undid their belts and flys in unison, and he pushed his down just enough to free his cock. She licked her lips as she watched him stroke himself lazily.

As she bent over to slide her pants and knickers down, he reached up to cup her chin in one hand and steal a kiss. She kicked her pants off to one side and tried to go back to the floor, but he stopped her.

He grabbed her by the ass and pulled her forward to kiss her thigh, her hip, the bare skin just above her soft chestnut curls. Biting her lip, she put one foot up on his bed and shifted her weight to steady herself. Her lashes fluttered as he parted her folds with the tip of his tongue, gently flicking her clit. He slowly licked her up and down, then wrapped his lips around her clit.

Her knees buckled a little and she grabbed him by the hair. He squeezed her ass in reassurance as he sucked her clit and lapped at her dripping core. He continued to work her clit with his tongue as he eased a finger inside her, dragging a moan from her lips. When he added a second finger, she struggled to hold herself up on shaking legs.

She was on the verge of begging when he relented his delicious assault, and she practically fell to her knees. He kissed her roughly as she grabbed his cock and guided it to her wet cunt. She realized she was almost twitching, and in a sudden burst of inspiration, she licked her fingertips and began rubbing her clit as she slowly took his cock.

He grabbed her by the hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to meet his eyes. The intensity on his face flooded her with heat and as she took every last inch of his cock, she cried out in orgasm, fisting the sleeve of his t-shirt in her free hand. When her lashes fluttered his hand tightened in her hair, bringing her eyes back to his face. For a moment she couldn't move, she just sat there, gasping, spasming around his cock, watching him watch her.

When she found her strength, she rolled her hips, and his hands tightened on her ass. She gripped his shoulders as she rode him, watching him as intently as he had watched her, listening to his breathing become increasingly ragged. He tried to throw his head back as he came, but she cupped his face in her hands and watched him as his eyes rolled and his jaw worked, until he pulled her tight against him, his arms like steel bands holding her to him.

She sighed and kissed his neck, tasting salt. He jerked, and she wondered if he was ticklish. She had to stifle a giggle. Eventually, he loosened his hold, and as usual he helped her gather her clothes. She plopped onto the edge of his bed to put her boots back on, and he handed her the bottle of whiskey.

"Still waiting on that apology." She took a swig and passed it back.

He scoffed. "Somebody's gotta remind you you're not goddamn invincible."


End file.
